What's up at Ravens March.

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Posts Tagged ‘Pelikan P1’

Posted by Dirck on 26 March, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • 19 March
  • First draft of “In Loco Parentis”.
  • Adventures in shopping for necessities during a lockdown.
  • A letter I’ve been shamefully neglecting.†
  • 2 manuscript pages
  • No spare probe covers for our Braun aural thermometer, alas.
  • Ready to mail.

 

† The letter to which I respond arrived just before Christmas. I plead “really a lot of powerful distractions”.

‡ The last time I used this pen (not quite two years ago, I discover with alarm), I also used brown ink. The only rationale for this association I can think of is that brown was big in the ’70s.

I am, by the way, still at work. The Regular Job turns out to count as “essential services”, and I’m apparently essential to it, so I’ll be the last one out before management is made to lock the doors. Let’s all hope it doesn’t come to that.

 

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Posted by Dirck on 19 March, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 16 March
  • 17 March
  • 18 March
  • 19 March
  • First draft of “Morgue Attendance”.
  • Fidgeting about coronavirus, and an attempt to find some yogurt in the picked-over grocery store.
  • First draft of “THINGY”
  • 1 manuscript page, and then some doubts about direction creep in…
  • A stunning success on both fronts; thanks to St. Patrick for the latter!
  • 8 manuscript pages

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 12 March, 2020

Before the status report, a status report, because one of the regular readers here expressed appreciation at my tiny contribution to the effort to de-stigmatize mental illness. There is a substantial amount of stress at The Regular Job right now. There was not quite so much about a month ago, but apparently it was enough to move one of my colleagues to reach over her head, grab the yellow and black striped handles, and launch herself into early retirement.

This is what everyone’s desk chair looks like, right?

She had been here quite a while, and thus had accreted a lot of small duties with obscure processes, known to her more as muscle-memory rituals than as steps in a logical sequence. It’s fallen to me and one other co-worker to take over doing what she did, which involves a certain amount of archaeology, paleography, and cautiously touching a quivering fingertip to the huge black monolith in the break room.

Stressful.

And yesterday, as I was finally finished the work of the previous day, it struck me that six months ago, this turn of events would have destroyed me. Every bit of the shattering sensibility in the concept nervous breakdown would have come to me. Absolutely no doubt. But as it stands… well, no one likes extra work, but there’s no attendant dread to the current load.

I can’t say whether this is down to coping strategies from counselling, Magic Brain Pills, or whatever went wrong in my head last year correcting itself as mysteriously as it blew its breakers. It’s probably a combination of the first two, with a possibility of the third providing extra flotation. I’m strangely unwilling to experiment by discontinuing use of either cognitive tools or modern chemistry. I’d rather live with this small uncertainty than try to live with a return of the full-size Black Dog.

I occasionally hear it sniffing around, just the other side of the metaphorical tree line.

But enough introspection. Let’s have a look at what the week’s self-imposed labours produced:

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 9 March
  • 10 March
  • 11 March
  • 12 March
  • Third (but really second, sort of) draft of “Filter Feeder”.
  • Revision of “The Mermaid’s Husband”.
  • First draft of “Morgue Attendance”.
  • Rubbed with a towel, weighted at 2402 words, and sent to the publication it was meant for.
  • Dropped about a page of unwanted weight, and also sent to that same anthology.†
  • 5 manuscript pages

 

†At the risk of uttering a spoiler against my own work, “The Mermaid’s Husband” contains more direct Lovecraft reference than “Filter Feeder”, since it’s crammed with his blasphemous fish-frogs. Seeing that the Lovecraftian anthology smiled upon multiple submissions, why wouldn’t I try to find a home for one of my slime-dripping darlings?

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Posted by Dirck on 5 March, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 2 March
  • 3 March
  • 4 March
  • 5 March
  • Third draft of “Second Impression”.
  • Fourth draft of “Stuckman’s Miracle Men”.
  • Ground to an unlikely 3456 words, and sent to the publication that inspired its creation.
  • Reshaping based on comments from editors who declined it.†

†The lesser reason for doing this a rather long time after getting the third draft into what I thought was final shape is pangs of artistic pride. The greater is that I was in a fever to get MOAR STOREES!!1! written, and since in my head this one had a COMPLETED sign hung over its pigeon-hole, the notion of returning to it usually didn’t strike me at any useful time (he pauses, shirtless, toothbrush in frothy maw, and thinks, “Oh, damn. That. Maybe tomorrow…”). I managed to convince myself that the re-edit was actually the thing that was going to follow getting that Lovecraftish thing (“Filter Feeder” currently, but it may change again).

Yes, I do picture my mind as a vast array of pigeon-holes. All oak and brass, well-loved by its owner, but rather dusty and far from state of the art.

 

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Posted by Dirck on 27 February, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 24 February
  • 25 February
  • 26 February
  • 27 February
  • First draft of something for a specifically Lovecraft-inspired call for submissions. Title eludes…
  • 2363 typed words, because there’s a deadline.

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 20 February, 2020

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 17 February
  • 18 February
  • 19 February
  • 20 February
  • A leisurely non-working Monday
  • Second draft of “Second Impression”.
  • Some laundry.
  • 1423 typed words, and SOOOO close to done it hurts.

 

 

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Posted by Dirck on 20 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 17 June
  • 18 June
  • 19 June
  • 20 June
  • Second draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead”.
  • Third Draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day”.
  • Third Draft of “A Doting Mother Cradles Her Wayward Child”.
  • Second draft of “Feel My Pain”.
  • 667 typed words.
  • Surprisingly, little more than typo corrections.
  • Ditto.
  • 1766 typed words.

Good heavens, I’m actually finishing some of the things I started. [CHORUS: It’s about time!]

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Posted by Dirck on 13 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 10 June
  • 11 June
  • 12 June
  • 13 June
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead”.
  • 2 manuscript pages.
  • 2152 typed words.

Where, oh where, that huge speed of a couple of weeks ago? Well, it’s probably being absorbed by long stretched of pensive sitting. Sometimes the second draft differs from the first only in tiny matters of a word here, a phrase moved a little. This time, there’s a wholesale transformation; ensemble piece down to a single player, vast adjustments in the emphases in descriptions, and a shift of overall tone from BOYS ADVENTURE to quiet elegy (that’s possibly a little too grand, but I’ll leave it to make myself feel like an artist). So, yeah, pensive sitting. The slow turning of the creative millstones. There’s no set deadline on this one, so that’s just fine.

Edit: I have no idea how I managed to get the dates of the week two weeks ahead, as they were before this edit. Wishful desire for my summer break, probably.

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Posted by Dirck on 6 June, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 3 June
  • 4 June
  • 5 June
  • 6 June
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • Third draft of “Tiger on My Back”.
  • 6 manuscript pages.
  • -812 typed words.
  • Complete and submitted instantly.

There is a negative number in the progress this week. I wrapped up the story, and found it was over the word limit given out by the target anthology’s call for submissions. So, last week’s remarkable output proves to have been a bit of a foot-shoot.

I am, alas, not surprised by this development. But it’s done now, two words under the limit, and ready for examination by my patient readers.

Those who actually follow these updates will be shocked at how long I left “Tiger on My Back” sitting in a commented-upon-yet-unedited state. Well, I started some other stuff, then found the call “Fourteen Nights” responds to… and having thumbed through it when the last reader finished I figured the gratifyingly few issues they found were low priority. Until I found another call for submissions yesterday, seeking WW2-related stories. I’m susceptible to magical thinking, and submitting today of all days with that as the criteria was irresistible.

And for those who are feeling clever– yes, indeed, it is that kind of Tiger.

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Posted by Dirck on 30 May, 2019

 

Day What How Much Pen Ink
  • 27 May
  • 28 May
  • 29 May
  • 30 May
  • First draft of “Found on Roadside, Dead.”
  • Second draft of “Fourteen Nights of Day” (a working title).
  • 6 manuscript pages.
  • 4247 typed words.

I don’t know about you folks, but I’m stunned at this week’s output. When did I learn to type that fast while making use of my creative faculties?

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